Big Parade
by Beckett Simpleton
Summary: USUK oneshot for 'The Big Parade' by the Lumineers. Alfred drags Arthur to a parade on the 4th of July to show off his colours - as despite his stiff pretence of a stiff upper-lip, Arthur is actually enjoying himself. Pairing somewhere in between a USUK Shonen-ai and Father-Son


For Big Parade by the Lumineers. The song's so upbeat and happy and so American that I couldn't resist it. It makes me think of Alfred dragging Arthur through a big American parade like a child.

I changed 'lovely girl' to 'lovely boy' and the song is supposed to be read from either a neutral or from Arthur's point of view so 'lovely boy' refers to Alfred. The UKUS is more big brother/little brother or father/son than romantic here, though there is some romanticism. Given the need for Alfred to impress Arthur, the looking up to him and such, I think this is more UKUS than USUK. Or at least equal.

Do enjoy.

~*~The Big Parade~*~

_Lovely boy won't you stay, won't you stay, stay with me_

_All my life I was blind, I was blind, now I see_

_Lovely boy won't you stay, won't you stay, stay with me_

_All my life I was blind, I was blind, now I see_

Arthur's vision became a mass of limbs, flags, red, white and blue. No matter how fast he whipped his head around to fix something in his vision long enough to catch a glimpse, Alfred's tugging always yanked him away first.

"Arthur, Arthur!"

And despite himself, and his stuffy, moth-eaten pretence, he allowed that small, honest smile to grace his face – a win for the American.

"Look, look!"

_Fleet of black, fleet of black limousines_

_These tinted machines, here comes the cavalcade_

_With the armoured cars, armoured cars like berettas_

_Flags on antennas designed to keep me safe, keep me safe_

"I see, I see, Hun," Arthur assured, knowing that he would never be able to console the blundering American, containing more energy than a shaken can, his smile splitting his face.

And Alfred wasn't consoled, because Arthur would never see _everything_, he needed to see _everything_, this was him, all this was him, the colour, the noise, the screaming, the uncontainable joy and excitement.

_And oh my my, oh hey hey_

_Here he comes, the candidate_

_Blue eyed boy, United States_

_Vote for him, the candidate_

Alfred fitted right in, like the engine in a car, revved up, shaken up, fizzing and bubbling and spilling over, uncontainable, smiling and so, so American. So red, white and blue.

Arthur stole a glance at the flag in his hand. He knew it was expected of him to be that arse-hole at a cultural parade to hold their own flag, but in his clutches were only honest stars and stripes. Young, innocent, stars and stripes.

_Diamonds cut, diamonds cut for the carats _

_Plaster of Paris, the floats fill up the street_

_And the beauty queens, beauty queens with the white gloves_

_All sick from the night clubs, they wave with pageantry, pageantry_

Alfred yanked hard on his arm, pulling up from the sea of bodies, yelling and shrill, joy voices, so high, accented and childlike, his own low accented dialect his barely audible through it. A different octave, a different kind, accepted, forced in for this one day.

"Arthur, look!"

Arthur looked. In his hands were the bars of a metal barricade, warmed by the huge, shining American sun. Before him, in the cordoned off road was sparkling with the effort and smiles of thousands of cheerful volunteers, working floats and dancing. Red, white and blue.

_Oh my my, oh hey hey_

_Here it comes, the big parade_

_Marching bands and barricades_

_Make way, for the big parade_

"You'll like this, Arthur!" Alfred screamed over the noise. Arthur flashed him his smile and trained his eyes back onto the road. Alfred was so excited; he could almost feel the thrum of an excited heartbeat disturbing the thick, sweltering air.

Smart, smart boys, men, walking in straight, proud lines, marching, high knees, banging drums, thrumming out song as if it was what they were born to do. Arthur felt Alfred's sweaty hand clenched around his wrist and the reverberating beat of drums ratting inside his ribcage, re-pacing his heart.

_Canvas covered, canvas covered in resin_

_The violent men who dance the blood ballet_

_And the bookies say, bookies say it's the 3rd round_

_Oh when Louie will go down, if he don't there's hell to pay, and hell to raise_

"You do like it, don't you?" he asks, looking his older companion full in the face for the first time since entering the tangle. Flushed cheeks, shining blue eyes, million dollar smile. Sweaty, golden hair, drawing the light in, shining, shining.

_And oh my my, oh hey hey_

_Here he comes, the welterweight_

_Take a dive, for goodness sake_

_Or say goodbye to the welterweight_

Arthur could only offer one thousand nods of his head for the American, yes, yes, oh God, yes.

"Show me more."

Arthur couldn't open his eyes an inch wider, he gazed around like a child, paying no heed to the offensive sunlight, bleaching his hair, dancing on yellow eyelashes and bringing up freckles across his nose, down his arms. "Please, show me more," show me more, show me more. Show me everything with a child's awestruck eyes.

Alfred felt the gift of giving like never before. The lengths he'd go to, to show his appreciation, to see happiness and an honest smile on that face.

"Yeah!"

_Catholic priest, Catholic priest in a crisis_

_He's torn between romance and Jesus, who will win the civil war?_

_And he says I'm in love, I'm in love with a woman_

_Yeah this is my confession, I'm leaving; I can't a priest anymore, anymore_

In the centre of a cultural overload, Arthur focussed all attention on the American, _his _American, attached to his arm like a limpet full of caffeine and sugar. Was it possible that one person could make him so happy? He could just sit, sit and watch him for hours, just existing, and loving the privilege. Arthur stuffed down any sense of debt. He wanted to enjoy this moment, these few hours, and he wanted them to last for forever and a day.

_And oh my my, oh hey hey_

_There he goes, the man of faith_

_Left the church for his fiancé_

_Let him love, the man of faith_

Arthur never felt a sense of going back or betrayal on his own red, white and blue the whole day, though he immersed himself in Alfred's quite happily. Though as patriotic as he was, he'd happily leave it all, just for his American. He'd feed him Skittles and let him stay up late watching scary movies all night, who was he to dictate, and to judge, something so wonderful? Who was he to set the boundaries? Alfred wasn't a religion, Alfred was gold.

Arthur looked at the hand, still on his wrist and his numb, bloodless fingers. Too often, when you think you're controlling Gold, Gold is controlling you.

_TV cameras, TV cameras and stage hands_

_American bandstand, electric guitars_

Alfred pulled Arthur into his arms, warm and strong. He looked down at Arthur, whose face was decorated with the sparkle of dappled sunlight, chipped and cut through a film of green, green leaves and his straw-blonde hair. Alfred joined in with a song, strong and honest, naïve and young. The national anthem of a nation not his own was breathed down upon Arthur. Alfred's breath smelt sickly sweet and thick like pink milk.

_And he's singing songs, singing songs for the lonely_

_All the girls with the room keys_

_They know all his words by heart, by heart _

_And they all sing;_

_Lovely boy won't you stay, won't you stay, stay with me_

_All my life I was blind, I was blind, now I see_

_Lovely boy won't you stay, won't you stay, stay with me_

_All my life I was blind, I was blind, now I see_

Arthur raised a hand up behind him to thread his fingers through Alfred's hair, sated smile settled on his lips, dried out in the unforgiving sun. He mouthed the words to the song he half knew, feeling the heavy vibrations through Alfred's thin t-shirt as he shouted that song off by heart over the crowd.

"Lovely boy," he praised onto deaf ears. _Stay with me._

_Oh my my, oh hey hey_

_Here he comes by saving grace_

_Burn the car and save the plates_

_He's arrived; my saving grace_

~*~The Big Parade~*~

Well I think that went well. Did you? Did you listen to the song? It's so patriotic and happy, it makes me proud to be an American, and I'm British.

There was quite a bit of symbolism put in there, from Arthur, Alfred and the song, but also in general. Did you spot any?

I've never been to America. I'd really like to experience something like this. The best festival I've been to so far is the one on Jamaican independence day that they hold in Manchester.

Also, this is sort of my first go at writing Alfred (as he is, not a child AU). Did he live up to your expectations?

Please drop a line.

~BS


End file.
